


Sunsetting Heaven

by Supersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, AntiCastiel, Antichrist, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Cannibalism, Codependency, Codependent Winchesters (Supernatural), Dean teaching Sam the right way to have sex, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon/Angel War, Gang Rape, Gangbang, Genocide, Heterochromia Sam Winchester, Horror, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Mentions of Sam Winchester/ Original Female Character(s), Porn With Plot, Powerful Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Sibling Incest, Suicide, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29128164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supersupernatural/pseuds/Supersupernatural
Summary: "Once upon a time, there were eight brothers. They all avoided the third brother because his body was always warm and moist, and soon got himself some fleas. He tried very hard to get rid of those fleas, almost succeeded, but then the fleas reemerged."After a long silence, Dean prompted, "and?""And that's it. The third brother's name was Earth."
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. My Bloody Valentine

It was Dean's favorite holiday, "unattached drifter Christmas" he called, and Dean had got a loud company. The decayed rental house door swung closed, locking the telltale noises behind Sam. The last ray of light from the setting sun was just killed by night, amber colored streetlights illuminating the dilapidated neighborhood. Sam inhaled a lungful of chilly air, started walking down along the sidewalk. There were two pedestrians on the other side of the street, and an old man walking ahead of Sam, but none of them saw that Sam disappeared with a black minivan driving through.

It happened so fast. Someone covered Sam's mouth from behind and grabbed his waist, dragging him into the minivan. Sam's struggle was in vain, his scream muffled by a rough hand, and the door slid closed. "I can't believe we are really doing it!" the man behind the wheel uttered excitedly, while the man holding Sam shoved Sam onto the floor, sat on his thighs, leered down at him.

"Believe it. When it's over, we'll burn the body with this van we stole; nothing traces back to us, 'cause we live five states away and never see this little boy." Said the man on top of Sam, who was in his late thirties, bulky and muscular. He was talking to both his accessory and Sam, and made a satisfied grin when his plan dawned on Sam. No one was coming to rescue, also, Sam wouldn't be alive by the time they were done with him.

The only thing they couldn't possibly take into account was that Sam was a hunter in training; he would seize every chance he got to break free. Sam threw a punch at the guy's face, successfully knocked the man's face to one side. But the weight on his mouth and thighs was unmoved. In retaliation, the man hit Sam on the face and stomach with heavy blows, the first one making Sam bleed from the nostril, the second one making him throw up his dinner. Sam was unable to do a thing but endure the pain when the man dragged his pants and boxers down, away from his unresisting legs along with his sneakers. The man used Sam's pants to wipe Sam's face before throwing it on the vomit.

Sam was lying on his side on the van's metal floor, groaned as his rear was intruded by something cold and slick. Sam tried to crawl away, but was pulled back by the hand clasping his ankle, and the man shoved Sam's legs wide apart, poured some lube on his fingers, then thrust them back into Sam's rear, three digits this time.

It's dark, but Sam could still see the man unbuckle his belt, push down his pants. They were inside a running minivan. The man looming in front of him was almost twice as big as him. Sam was running out of time. As he was desperately trying to find a way out, the tip of the man's cock pressed tightly against his rear, with a rough thrust, it broke through the yielding entrance, entering the resisting hole. The tense muscle of Sam's inner wall was squeezing the hard length, trying to push it out, but it kept going, opening a tunnel for itself.

Eyes wide open, Sam couldn't believe this was happening. In the meanwhile, two hands grabbed at his hips, pulling him back before the man's hips ramming him forward. Sam felt his ass was on fire, his hips crushed by the vicious grip. Every pounding from the man on top of him punched a hurt moan out of him. Something inside Sam was cracking.

It went on and on. "Hey, boy. What's your name?" the man slowed down, spared a hand to slap Sam's face. When he got only a disgusted look from the little boy, he slapped Sam again. "Are you a virgin?" the man panted, and wasn't expecting an answer this time. He lifted Sam's hips, changing the angle his cock was fucking in and out of the tight hole. Sam's ass had grown numb. When the hard length hit a spot inside Sam, he felt a spark of pleasure, and a strange sound came out of his throat he didn't know he's capable of. The man then called Sam a slut and hit that spot with more force, more frequently, sending electricity of pleasure from Sam's head to toe.

Sam was overwhelmed by the sensation. It's nothing like when he wrapped his hand on his cock, stimulating pleasure from where it was supposed to be done. The sensation was from more deep inside, more dull, more confusing. Sam was hard, and God, he did sound like the sluts Dean slept with. Sam tried to silence himself. That earned him two blows on either side of his face. He was dazed in pain, while the man kept hitting his sweet spot, confusing his body with pain and pleasure, forcing unrestrained moans out of him.

Sam's hand reached down, getting a hold on his cock in need of releasing the pleasure that had been building. There's humiliation, but the physical need had won. "You getting off being raped? Little boy." The man taunted, hand back on Sam's mouth, pressing Sam's head tightly on the floor. He grabbed Sam's wrist, snapped it with a crack sound. Sharp pain hit Sam like a tidal wave, his body convulsing violently, wrecked scream trapped by the cruel palm holding his head still. "So fucking tight. You feel it boy? You suck me like a champ!" The man kept driving into Sam's contracting hole a few more times before gripping Sam's hair. Sheer pain made Sam lift his head and arch his back, which provide a new angle allowing the man's length reaching a more deep private place. The man rolled his hips, fat cock sliding along the raw wall, rubbing the sweet spot. Only that all Sam could feel at this point was the pain from everywhere and the embarrassment of his body being rocked back and forth.

Sam didn't stay in sheer pain, when the waves of sharp pain started to ebb, weak pleasure reemerged. The vicious grip had moved to Sam's waist, kept him in place when the man fucked him with more force and speed, every wild pound throwing Sam's body forward a little, the hard thick length keeping hitting the sweet spot. The man abruptly picked up the speed to an inhuman rate, like an engine, and when he stopped as suddenly as he started, Sam's confused body wasn't able to stop on its own, keeping fucking back a few times.

"Fucking whore! " The man spit into Sam's open mouth, body hovering over Sam as he restarting the quick and hard fuck. "Take it! Take my fucking load! Bitch!" The man grunted like a pig above Sam, his hands gripping Sam's waist deforming Sam's insides, the slap of his hips going frenzy, the friction from the man's cock burning Sam's ass. Sam's hand pressed on the man's clothed chest, trying to push him away, but it did nothing to stop the man slapping hips against his bottom with abandoning pounding. It was so strong that Sam couldn't tell whether them or the van was shaking. With a long sigh, the man rammed his cock deep into the soft hole for the last time, and stilled. Sam couldn't feel it, but he knew the man was unloading his come inside his ass. So. Fucking. Gross. The man slid his cock out a little, then thrust back in with a loud slap. He repeated it a few times before withdrawing completely, pulling up and zipping up his pants.

Finally Sam was left alone. Pain shooting through his body, moving even a muscle made it worse. While Sam stayed the same pose opening his legs wide open, the man flashed the camera light taking a picture of him, then kicked his thigh to flip him on his side, fluid flowing out of Sam's ass.

The noise of engine was loud to Sam's ears, the slightest rock of the car making him ache. A half empty tube lying across Sam on the floor, he could make some letters on the cover out when enough streetlight slanted in, aphrodisiac cream. Sam had lost track of time, had no idea where the vehicle was heading. There's no way he'd be able to make it. The best he could do was lie still to release the pain and wait for his death, a quick one hopefully.

When the vehicle stopped, the man broke Sam's ankle making him scream, then grabbed Sam by the waist, carrying Sam like a potato bag on his shoulder to an abandoned warehouse, where three other men were waiting for their prey. The man threw Sam onto an old mattress thrown carelessly on the cement floor. Five men watched with predatory eyes the teenager's slim body bouncing on the mattress in the dim light, produced by two camp fires nearby, the only sources of light in the spacious place.

"Shall we begin?" said a man in a strange foreign accent, and the tallest and most muscular man among the five of them, who had kidnapped Sam from the street, raped and beaten him, approached Sam. There were two entrance to this place, several selves in between. Sam simulated in his head every move he could take to escape, but every one ended with him getting captured with more injuries.

When the tall man held Sam's upper body in his arms, a black man, bald, rolled Sam's sleeve up, pushed the needle of a syringe in Sam's elbow, injected something into Sam's system. Then he poured something on a cloth, covered it on Sam's nose. The tall man holding Sam squeezed Sam's swelling wrist to help him breathe the drug in.

Sam didn't instantly feel anything from the doses they gave him, watched hopelessly the other men taking their cocks out and working on themselves. The black bald pulled his pants off, worked himself hard, rolled on a condom, separated Sam's thighs and pushed the thin rubber wrapped hardness into the swollen hole. Lying against the broad chest of the tall man, Sam's head was tilted so he could see how the cock disappeared into his bottom, and how it glistened in the flickering light when it was pulled out. Soon, Sam's heavy pants turned into little moans, soft and high-pitched, exactly the same as what he had been hearing from Dean's girlfriends through these years. "God, he sings like an angel." it came from a hoarse voice nearby.

The friction in Sam's rear felt like a tease, like something was not enough, hollow and empty. Sam needed to touch himself, stopped by the tall man behind him grabbing his forearm, good thing he didn't break it this time. In desperation, Sam rolled his hips making the friction more firm and strong.

Broad chest shuffled back, twisted Sam's body, pressed Sam's head tightly against his crotch and grinded, the metal zip combined with the coarse twilled fabric scratching Sam's lips and nose, drawing blood. Sam didn't know whether it's because of the hurt or the pleasure, the man's groin was wetted by his saliva in a moment. All the bruises pounding frantically, blood threatening to burst out, Sam was hurt badly, yet his body was moving of its own accord, fucking the luscious fat big cock with wild shoves of his hips, more eager than the man between his legs.

Sam's clothes were peeled off. After several rough hard pinch on his nipples, something cold and pointing pierced through one of them. Sam screamed into the man's crotch, when white-hot pain swept through his core, faint pleasure distant and remote, and Sam's body seizing, reaching the very first orgasm in his life with a cock inside him. The pain and pleasure was so confusing, that Sam wasn't sure it counted as an orgasm. And there's no coming down for Sam, for the man never stopped ramming his ass; The pain was all the same, blood rushing through Sam's veins pumped by a broken heart out of control. Sam's waist was twisted to the hilt, every ramming on his ass sending his thighs high up in air, tearing his muscle a little, threatening to snap him in two. "Fu.. Fuck..." the black man cursed, with a few more insanely heavy rams, finished in Sam's hole.

"Switch. Switch." as soon as the black bald withdrew his cock — wrapped in come filled rubber — from Sam's ass, the man in a hoarse voice pulled Sam up on his elbows and knees, thrusting in and sliding out of Sam's ass with his hands clutching under Sam's rib cage. Hair waving to and fro with his whole body, Sam felt dizzy, lowered his head to see a fishhook penetrated his nipple dangling below his chest, and every time the man bottomed up, a huge bulge appeared in Sam's abdomen, like something alive inside him was trying to break out.

"G...God. Little birdie. Lemme hear you scream." the hoarse voice's hand groped for the metal hooked to Sam's nipple, tugged with slowly increasing force, making Sam yell and trash. When the hook was completely pulled out of Sam, cutting his nipple in two, Sam's upper body collapsed on the mattress, wriggling pathetically and uselessly while the man held Sam's hips in place burying his cock in Sam's hole over and over again.

Sam's scream died down, replaced by the slapping of flesh, loud and clear. "Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God..." The man was chanting God's name, while committing the most ungodly sin, raping and abusing a child, and after a long time of monotonous and merciless forced fucking, the ironic hoarse voice reaching his peak of pleasure inside the poor kid.

There's a split moment of peace, then pain like rain poured down on Sam. He curled into a ball, but neither did it muffle his screams, nor did it stop the whip shrieking when cutting through the air, then falling on his body. Dark narrow marks soon covered all over Sam's back and butt, some cut his skin open.

"Sweet boy." the foreign accented man spread Sam's butt cheeks open, pushed his cock inside the contracting hole, then pulled half way out. He repeated it for some time, at a quick pace and with strong force, and all Sam's screams and shivers only made him go wilder. When he eventually got out of and off of Sam, he flipped Sam's body onto Sam's back, rolled off the condom and stuffed it into Sam's mouth. He crouched over Sam's torso, with a few pulls, spilled his seeds on Sam's face, which was bruised, soaked in tear and saliva.

The next man on top of Sam must've weighed a ton. He might not be the tallest among the gang, but sure the biggest and roundest. When he pushed his cock into Sam's ass, the repeatedly abused hole was stretched even wider; when he lied on top of Sam, fatty meat like a blanket covered Sam's whole body, heavy weight crushing Sam into the mattress; when he started grinding his hips, Sam felt his bones were cracking and he couldn't breathe. The cuts on Sam's back were burning, every time the pile of meat bottomed up, it felt like Sam was shoved into a flame of fire, and he couldn't scream, had nowhere to hide. The only thing he could do was take it under the fat man, opening his mouth wide, concentrating on getting air in his lungs.

The friction between the man's meaty abdomen and Sam's cock actually brought some pleasure to Sam. But as soon as the orgasm that Sam didn't want hit him, it just became too much. Sam's body jerked weakly under the firm pressure, almost choked on his own breath. Still, he had nowhere to disappear, could only take it when the massive weight rut savagely against him. It felt like it'd never stop, but then it did, after what felt like a mountain jump up and down on him, breaking several ribs of his. The mountain finished by pressing Sam tightly into the mattress, shaking against him.

The tallest man again, climbed on top of Sam, pushed his cock in Sam's hole without effort. Sam's body soon jolted with the man's thrusts, his eyes glassy, used condoms scattering around the abused body. All hope had left Sam. There were just endless sexual assault and torture, pushing him closer and closer toward the fire of hell. He tried to tune out, but the cruel man wouldn't have it, put his hand on Sam's throat, cut off his air. Death should've been calm and welcome, except Sam had long lost the control of his own body. Sam's hand darted toward the bigger hand around his throat, trying to pry the fingers off, but it just as useless as the weak struggle of his body, if anything, it only turned the man on, making him fucking Sam harder. When the pressure on Sam's windpipe disappeared, stinking air getting into Sam's lungs in a rush, Sam coughed and wheezed, while the man was fucking him harder and harder, forcing slurred moans out, mixed with the coughs and wheezes.

"Hey, Doc. Think he could use more painkiller?" the man slowed down when Sam's reaction weakened almost unobservable. Life was slipping away from Sam. And they had got to be kidding that Sam was on any kind of painkiller, because he couldn't feel a single place in him that wasn't in pain. Sam lied there pliantly taking the shot, which didn't keep him staying conscious for very long. Sam drifted off into darkness and nothingness, while a thick cock was thrusting in then pulling out of his ass, his body being pounded back and forth, his legs jolting with the force, again and again and again...

Sam felt pain, sometimes sharp, other times dull. He could hear people laughing, talking, but wasn't able to register the meaning of the words. Something huge entered his throat; His body was being rocked like he's on a boat in a storm; Someone pried his mouth open; There were moans and rhythmic movements next to him; Something was pressed against the back of his throat, spilling liquid, chocking him; There's friction in his ass; Strange sounds came out of his throat... All of these were like damaged video segments without timestamps playing in Sam's fogged brain.

The piercing sound and the unbearable burning pain on his chest woke Sam up. He realized a few moments later the scream was coming out from his mouth.

"Morning, sunshine." The foreign accent man, had an iron bar wrapped in a wet cloth in his hand, taunted. It's still dark outside, two camp fires lighting the space around them in the abandoned warehouse. The other end of the heated iron bar had just left Sam's chest, leaving a dark mark, and fell on Sam's bellybutton, poking. Sam screamed like a madman, writhing violently, and it made the five men laugh and cheer.

The hot metal then went to the inside of Sam's thigh. Sam's crawling back was stopped by strong hands grabbing at his shoulders. He separated his thighs wide apart to get away from the heated iron, but the bar landed on the inside of his other thigh, leaving another long narrow mark.

The black man behind Sam spun Sam around, pushed his cock in Sam's hole. After a few thrusts, he pressed a knife on Sam's neck and told him to move his hips like the whore he was. Seeking peace, Sam pushed his neck toward the sharp blade of the knife. But before he could really hurt himself, the knife's gone. "Wow! I'm impressed." The black man whistled, told the other men to hold Sam still.

"Here's your reward." The black man held Sam's eyelid open, put the sharp point of the knife into Sam's eyeball, with a little twist, tilted the eyeball out, and cut the nerves behind it. If there were any light bulb around, Sam's scream would have broken it. But there wasn't any, and his struggle was futile and in vain under multiple unmovable large hands.

Sam's body was lifted, the hoarse voice man's chest supporting Sam's back, his cock forcing in Sam's hole where had already accommodated another man's cock. Sam could actually feel his numb ass being torn apart, but he couldn't decide which one was worse, in comparison to the cock fucking his eye socket. Sam's body was like a rag doll, being manipulated into the way the men wanted, up and down, soft and docile. He realized after a long moment, that the reflective clench of his fist crushed his eyeball, and he wasn't able to do a thing. Sam was in a storm, screaming in horror and pain.

The screams of the boy and the men's grunts were echoing in the spacious warehouse. Near the two dots of fire, three men was using the boy as a disposable sex toy, while two others watching and enjoying, used condoms scattering on the mattress covered in dark colored smudges.

There's never an end for Sam. When the man using his eye socket spilled seeds on his hair, and the other two men inside his ass satisfied, Sam's body was moved sitting on yet another cock, the foreign accent man hugging him from front, tongue sticking into Sam's mouth. Sam wasn't even thinking, biting down on the disgusting flesh trying to get to his throat just because he could.

Blood filling Sam's mouth like water pouring on parched soil, quenching the thirsty Sam wasn't aware of. He never felt this comforted and contented, and he's becoming stronger by the minute, could barely feel the man's struggle.

Had absolutely no idea what he was doing, by pure instinct, Sam lifted his hand, pinning four grown men onto shelves close by, and pulled back the black smoke tried to get out of the man he was straddling. Sam pushed the man down slowly on the mattress, ignoring the fact that he still had the man's cock inside him. With a gentle brush of his forefinger, a deep cut appeared on the column of the man's neck, blood streaming out freely. Sam bent down, pressed his tongue, then lips, on the spout where fragrant warm liquid coming out.

While drinking fresh blood from the man's neck, Sam grinded his hips in a sluggish rhythm, rubbing the sweet spot deep inside him against the man's cock. Although a slight twitch of finger made him ache, and with every pleasure came a hundred times worse pain, Sam didn't know how to stop. His body was on auto pilot, the only thing left in him being animalistic instinct, the priority of which wasn't always survival, was in fact, in some circumstances, reproduction.

Sam's stomach was soon filled with the man's blood, and he decided it's enough with a lick on his lips. Sam pressed his hands on the chest of the man, who was shaking and on the verge of death, put his weight on the hand with an unbroken wrist, and started hitting his sweet spot more firmly on the cock. Sam moaned in discomfort and desperation, blood colored liquid dripping down out of his open mouth, his own blood oozing out from the cuts on his back. All of a sudden, the most intense and painful orgasm hit Sam, making him black out for a beat. He steadied his power just in time as the restraint on the four men loosening.

As soon as Sam came down, he tried to stand up on his wobbling feet, with extreme careful and the help of the cooled iron bar, succeeded. He crippled to the nearest man, the fat ball of a human being, pinned on an empty shelf connected to the beam. "No... No... No... Please... No..." The fat man cried in terror, wetted his hairy thick legs with uncontrolled leaking urine. Sam moved his fingers to direct his power, twisting the man's penis like a screw, one round after another, until the skin, muscle and bone giving in, blood spilling out, and the penis completely disconnected from the man's groin, leaving a dark bleeding hollow. The scream of a human being was way more soothing than a bird's sing, as long as you were not the one doing it, Sam got it now.

It was like using a hot metal blade cutting a marshmallow, when Sam used his newfound mystery power cutting the plump belly open. He then lifted the man face down, impaled the man's fat ass on a rusty stick, mimicking the movement he's been forcing to receive what felt like a century, rocking the porky body back and forth. Every thrust forced a scream out of the fat man, throwing a gush of blood out of the obese belly. By and by, the bowels started drooping lower and lower, the man's screams becoming grunts. With a certain thrust, something inside the man fell down out of the cut to the ground, kind of like a pinada. Sam kept fucking the man on the metal stick with fun, until nothing came out and the man fell complete silent. It was orgasmic, no, a thousand times better than any kind of orgasm. The power was invigorating, the revenge intoxicating.

Sam dropped the dead body of the fat man like a broken rag doll onto its insides, turned to face the next man he was going to have fun with. "Mon... Monster!" Sam's heart fluttered when he smelled the pleasant aroma of fear from the black bald man, the stuttered word like an ironic compliment on the man's trembling tongue. Sam curled his forefinger slightly, pulling the man's eyeballs out slowly, the strings of nerves stretched taut, before hitting the limit and snapping. The two eyeballs were stuffed into the man's mouth, made a bulge going through the throat, ended in the man's stomach.

Sam wanted to skin the man alive, unfortunately, wasn't skillful enough to perform so precisely. After cutting some muscles off, leaving a few nasty wounds deep enough to show bones, Sam gave up and started chopping the screaming mess the way one did to vegetables. Chop, chop, the man's feet and shins fell into pieces; Chop, chop, there went the man's knees and thighs; Chop, chop, hips, abdomens, chest, were all gone, gone, and gone, then the eyeless head dropped on the pile of meat used to be a human being.

The next man, the hoarse voice, was an even more ironic dude, had been chanting God's name the whole time. Sam cut crosses, big or small, deep or shallow, all over the parts of the man's body, making the clueless little bird sing till its pretty throat bleeding. If only each breath hadn't hurt this much, and the voice wouldn't have made him sound pathetic, Sam would've spoken up. SING. LITTLE BIRD. SING. Sam wished God would appear to save this believer, so that he could kill God himself. He wished people were able to see what he was doing and stood in front of this poor man, so that he could kill, every single one of them.

When the space on the canvas of skin for Sam to draw ran out, and the screaming of the beautiful sounded bird died down, Sam twisted the man's body like wringing a washcloth. bones were broken, insides crushed, blood gushing out, and the mutilated body was separated into two parts, waist up from down.

Finally, Sam stood in front of the man — his first, technically — who dragged him into a horror movie, showed him how cruel this world really was. All the hurt and humiliation, fear and desperation, Sam was going to pay him back a thousand times. He used the man's body as a human sponge, lifting it face down, scrubbing it at the cement floor. The cleanness was gradually scrubbed away, and the place became what it should have been like, covered in blood, skin and muscle tissues, filled with pain, suffer and screams. DIE! DIE! DIE! FOR EVERYTHING YOU DID TO ME! GO TO HELL, AND BURN IN THE ETERNAL FIRE! FOR THE REST OF TIME, TILL THE END OF THE WORLD, YOU'LL EXIST ONLY IN ENDLESS PAIN, UNABLE TO DO A THING BUT SCREAM, AND EVERYONE SEES YOU WILL ENJOY YOU SUFFERING!

Suddenly, the man's body exploded, blood and chunks of flesh flying scattering. Sam was shocked as the solid blocks hit him hard and the warm liquid covered his bare skin. As if the man's last struggle, Sam's arm was cut lightly by a flying broken bone. There were a heart, still beating, by Sam's feet, some little damaged organs, huge blocks of flesh, close by, and the head connected with its neck and a long column of spine stuck on the shelf. The separated head was horrified, mouth open, lips trembling, tears spilling out of wide opened eyes where pupils dilating. Sam clenched his fist, starting with the heart, exploded all of the body parts, one by one, into molecules. With every slippery sound, air became denser with blood. By the time Sam destroyed the last piece, the ugly head, he was standing in a dark colored fog, surrounded by the detritus that once was his enemies.

In silence, Sam realized the man, different from others, giving off a dark aura, and somehow edible, was still alive lying on the blood soaked mattress. Sam crippled over to and sat by the dying body. Blood had stopped coming out from the man's neck, his body temperature low, breathing weak.

Instinct told Sam that the body passed for leftover, and he'd need it to survive. So Sam opened the man's abdomen, after some flipping and picking, scooped a liver up and started munching on it. It was a little like a sugarless sulfury pudding, of which Sam wasn't a fan. Around the time the man, no, the creature died, and the darkness inside the body completely disappeared, Sam had had enough food in his belly.

Sam started for the entrance, without looking back, flipped his finger to burn down whatever he left behind. It was dark outside, no moon, no stars, cloudy and cold, but there were street lights far off.

A cracked window pane reflected Sam's ruined body, reminding him of what he had just done. He's a monster now, the opposite of a hunter. If Dad were here right now, he would have put a bullet in Sam's head without second thought. Sam could never go back to become the old him, the innocent little brother, worrying one day he'd become the same as Dean with girls, the defiance son, wanting a different life and struggling for a better future. All of his old problems seemed petty and trivial, belonged to another lifetime.

Not anymore, there's a place for him to come back. He's on his own now.


	2. Dark Side of the Moon

It was a place where sun didn't shine, where everything suffered, where demons born; It was a place made up of bone and flesh, filled with fear and pain; It was a place for abuse, kill, and chaos. During his three centuries in hell, Dean spent the first three decades being tortured, the rest torturing others, until all humanity in him dissipated, and his eyes turned black.

Dean's boss, Alastair, Hell's grand torturer, congratulated him then sent him to Lilith, the first demon Lucifer ever created, who then commanded him to assassinate a human boy, Sam Winchester. Lilith told Dean that it's his destiny to kill his brother, and that they were in something huge he couldn't even imagine.

When Dean got on Earth, his old meat suit, having a hole in its head, was waiting for him to wear, and he followed a demon named Ruby to meet up with his brother. Dean remembered his time as a human, not every detail, only a vague and detached concept, after all, it's less than twenty years in his over three hundred years life of being. Sam Winchester meant nothing to him, a stranger he wouldn't recognize even if he stood in front of him.

Turned out, Dean did recognize Sam at first sight over three centuries. It's kind of hard to ignore the intense stare that hot enough to light a fire, not to mention it came from such a beautiful being. Sam was nothing like the naive kid in Dean's obscure memory. He had grown up, about as tall as Dean, clean limbed body wrapped in a black suit paired with a red tie, the iris of one eye green as peridot, the other yellow as citrine, both half hidden behind gorgeous hair. Sam's eyebrows furrowed, tilted his head in bewilderment. "Dean, Why are you a demon?"

Before Dean got a chance to open his mouth, or Ruby dared to protest the "rain check" Sam threw her way, Sam trotted toward Dean, grabbed his hand, and the next moment they were in a fancy kitchen, one of the marble counters as large as a queen sized bed, glass door transmitting a huge clear swimming pool and the greens beyond. "Hold that thought." Sam seated Dean at the counter, disappeared briefly before bringing back all kinds of food Dean used to like: an apple pie surrounded by some greasy food from Biggerson's, even his six-packs.

"Marry me!" Dean burst out, grabbed a hamburger and bit down. It only took him three bites to finish the burger, then he gorged himself a whole bucket of chicken wings, swept the fries clean, also emptied a cup of milkshake. This was what he missed most the first few years in hell, delicious food and toasty bed. Along the years, the craving ebbed, finally disappeared when he became a demon. His craving was now for blood and torture. Although he wasn't against having some good food, even he didn't necessarily need it.

Dean was at the apple pie and beer when he peeped at Sam, who had been sitting opposite to him. Their eyes met, and Dean doubted this kid's eyes had ever left him since they met.

"You want more?" Sam asked genuinely.

"You don't want to spoil me." Dean's voice was muffled by a mouthful of apple pie. He had some beer to wash it down, questioned," what happened to your eyes?"

"It's a prize for winning the game Azazel planned for some special kids." Sam fluffed his soft bangs, trying to hide the citrine behind.

"It looks good on you." Dean commented. He had heard rumors about that game in hell, didn't know the winner was Sam back then, but demons told stories about how the human boy didn't have a heart, how he butchered the other kids like art making even demons want to get on their knees worshipping him, and how he heroically opened the hell gate before it was shut down by other hunters.

They talked a little, not linearly. Dean put together Sam's side of the story, starting from four years ago, Valentine's day, five men ruining Sam's life. One of them was demon. Sam drank his blood and killed them all to survive. Afterwards, Sam thought Dad would kill him if he found out ( Dean thought so too ), so he took off. Sam lived on his own since then, using his super power. Two years ago, he won Azazel's game and opened the hell gate, which was shut down three months later. Now, there were just enough chaos on Earth, and Sam was working for Azazel to fight for the upcoming Apocalypse.

Sam also filled Dean in, that Azazel was the commander here, mainly working on convincing high ranking demons to join force. Meg, Tom, and Sam were working directly for Azazel. Meg was in charge of recruiting human soldiers and teaching them angelic magic that only humans were able to use, Tom fending off angels or hunters, whoever getting in their way, and Sam supporting them. Thousands of demons were currently working under the three of them on Earth, roughly eight hundred on Sam's team, including Dean and Ruby.

"You haven't told me why you killed yourself yet, Dean." Sam was chewing a doughnut in the setting sun light. He had brought back more fast food and some desserts he thought Dean would like, which Dean did. Their taste in food were alike now, Dean observed.

"You have a map? I want to show you something." Dean had Sam teleport them to Windom, Minnesota, in front of a homey two story house, soft light illuminating in the darkness of night, three figures sitting at the dinner table by the kitchen window.

"You know we have a half brother, Sammy? That's why." Dean pointed at the house, eyes flashing black. "We reached the warehouse a day after you gone, saw the picture of you being violated (which Sam didn't mention). That's all you got from John. He said you died in the fire and dragged me here moving on with his new family. I left, and he didn't bother to find me either. It's just a bad day when I put a bullet in my head, and I regretted it every minute to this point, 'cause what I really meant was to kill him."

That was all Dean had to say, more to himself than to Sam. Without further notice, Dean broke John's front door, and Sam helped to blow the salt line away. Dean walked through the threshold to the kitchen, pinned the three human on the wall, and Sam shut John up as he started chanting exorcism.

"Hi, Dad. Look who I found." Dean sneered at John, who was petrified, eyes shifting between Dean and Sam.

"Hi, Dad." Sam waved at John and gave back his voice after telling him "don't try to exorcise Dean, or I kill your family."

John's first words, a question of what Sam was, made Dean punch his stomach and grab his hair. "He! Is your son! The one you gave up after he went missing. Do you even remember his name?" Dean then pushed his face closer to John's, looking him into the eyes. "I, am the other son you gave up. I committed suicide and went to hell, came back as a demon just to bring you down."

John blinked tears out of his watery eyes, shook his head left and right in denial.

"No! Dean! He didn't gave either of you up! He did everything he could to save you! You were broken. No better than a walking dead." The woman yelled, acting like she knew Dean.

"Saving me by what? Fucking another kid out of you as Sam's replacement? Or leaving people to die, just so he could show me that our old life of hunting was but a joke to him?" Dean clenched his fist, snapped the woman's neck, causing screams from John and her kid.

"Sam, he's not Dean! It's a demon! Whatever it says, you can't believe. You can't let it wear Dean's body killing people!" John's argue made Sam look a bit sad. Sam replied," He is Dean."

As John tried to exorcise Dean again, Sam stopped John's voice, slit their half brother's throat, and told John that he told him so. Dean's eyes were pure black, taking in the grief and sorrow of the old man, who had just lost his wife and child.

"You talked to the wrong person." Dean took a knife from the kitchen counter, flipped it over then back. "Sammy there didn't give a shit about anything, except for getting into my pants. After I kill you, I'll get on my knees and suck his cock, fuck him crazy in front of your dead body." It was a bluff that Dean hoped Sam would get on board with, which Sam did, and whatever his reaction just twisted John's face into disgust and shock. "Best brother ever!" Dean relished it while cutting off John's head, and putting it on the platter in the middle of the dinner table.

The euphoria of killing and the fragrance of blood was so good, that Dean, the blood thirsty demon, beamed brightly at Sam, who squeezed his bloodied hand and brought him back to the fancy house.

Sam let go of Dean's hand, took two steps back, without any preamble, got straight to the point. "Dean. Azazel killed Mom. Because she saw him dripping demon blood into my mouth." Dean listened as Sam went on. "After I killed my kidnappers, I could've let you know I was safe or reached out to you, but I didn't. That's twice I screwed your life up, so if you want me die... I'm here. Just do it, I won't defend myself."

Dean didn't know what Sam's issue was, whether a helpless kid missing his brother, or having sympathy for Dean. The only thing for sure was that Dean didn't believe Sam a little bit. It may be four years for Sam, but for Dean, it was three centuries in the darkest pit hole of torture and death. Sam was a stranger to Dean, a stone cold mass murderer, a ruthless leader, a creature of super power that could destroy Lilith with a snap of finger (allegedly). Dean doubted if he showed even a tiny bit of malice toward Sam, who would end up dead.

Also, Dean didn't remember the detail, but Sam was a pain in the ass, messed up Dean's life way more than just twice. It was almost his job to make Dean miserable, even now. The person standing in front of Dean was so broken and distorted, that Dean can smell the saccharine rotten corruption and the glace dangerous cruelty hidden behind that beautiful face. Sam was perfection, meant to be treasured, not eliminated, destiny or not, Dean didn't see that happening. 

"Keep the junk food coming. We are good." Dean said. That night, he slept in the soft bed in the cozy guest room. There's no pain, no danger, no coldness, not a bit uncomfortable, only the sweet smell of blood, and the delectable taste of victory on his tongue.

The following morning, when Dean walked into the kitchen, his eyes were caught on the over abundant breakfast — pancakes, waffles, bacon, ham, fried eggs, fruit bowl, juice, milk, of course, and pie.

"Morning." Sam was making coffee, a half eaten bacon hanging between his glossing lips, surreal like a poignant dream. Dean had to pinch himself to make sure it's not.

As Dean devoured the appealing, aromatic, tasty dishes, Sam poured Dean a cup of black coffee, suggested, "Why don't you take a few days off?" Sam slid a credit card, some cash, and a car key toward Dean, continued, "There's an Impala in the garage."

"Aww, Sammy. We haven't even married." Dean burst out. Was there anything Sam hadn't thought of? Seriously, why would Dean ever want to kill someone like this and go back to that pit hole?

Dean saw Ruby's name on Sam's cell phone when it started ringing. Sam declined the call, told Dean that he'd get Dean a cell phone for work later.

"So... You and Ruby?" Dean took a big gulp of coffee, teased.

"She's yours. If you want." Sam was eager to hand her over, eyes sparkling, looking at Dean like a puppy waiting to be praised, let Dean wonder if there's anything Sam wasn't willing to give him.

A little taken aback, A little amused, eye brow twitching, Dean decided to spit the truth, "Can't. My body doesn't work."

"Oh..." Sam's cheeks flushed rosy, hand clutching awkwardly at the fork, "I'm sorry." This time the phone rang, Sam said he probably should go to work and disappeared a minute later.

Dean spent the next three days catching up on some news on earth, driving around, and relaxing. On day four, out of boredom, Dean offered to help Sam, who was on a mission of searching for the first blade.

Aside from his day job as a leader of demons, Sam also opened for business as a treasure hunter. His favorite client was a witch named Rowena MacLeod, who always cut him great deals, sort of a mother figure to him. If he wanted some quick money, he would go to Bela Talbot, a human, a hunter, a great business woman. The client Sam disliked most was Crowley, the king of the crossroad demons, a creep, because Sam had to kiss him every time they sealed a deal.

Sam had already traced the location of the first blade, which was at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, 14,000 feet below sea level. Sam casted on them an underwater spell (temperature proof, pressure proof, breathing free) he brought from Rowena, and off they went. They each held a torchlight, started searching for a fishbone-like blade at the bottom of the ocean.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. Dean saw a shadow immense as a skyscraper enlarging in double quick time. He gestured at Sam, who noticed simultaneously, and made an attack on the shadow. The next thing Dean experiencing was probably what a fish felt like being flushed down a toilet.

Then the surrounding changed. they were in broad daylight, everything in the back of beyond, a city tiny as a cereal box far beneath the cumulus. "What the fu.... uAhhhhhhhh" Dean let out a scream when he realized they were free falling. Sam reached for Dean's hand, and as soon as their finger tips brushed, they moved again.

The good news was that they were on land this time. The bad news was that Dean tripped over something, and he lifted his head to see hundreds pairs of eyes looking back at them. Those were all furry big mice, had stout hind legs and long strong tails — They were in the middle of a mob of Kangaroos. What the...

They teleported again. On land, Checked. No other species around, Checked. Dean almost felt relieved until he saw the fucking Earth hanging in the sky. The craters in the ground, the scorching temperature, and the huge blue planet atop, were all proofs that they were on the moon. Why!? Why!? Why!?

Just as Dean thought he lived three hundred years, had seen all the tricks to end a life, his brother showed him a few unique ways to perish. They were lucky that Sam didn't land them on the Sun. How could this kid still be alive? The near death experience made Dean shake Sam like a tree, hoping he could knock some sense into him, but Sam was looking at him all weird, and then he put his lips on Dean's, light as a feather.

Dean wasn't sure whether their lips actually touched. It was hasty, and the air pressure was alien. Then they were back home. Sam's cheeks were beet red, lips cherry, under long dewed lashes, two gemstone of eyes shying away from Dean. Before Dean could get a hold of him, Sam was gone as if he was a glamorous mirage all along.

Later on, the news said that a 40-feet-long gigantic squid appeared out of thin air in Manhattan, knocked down some buildings, killed some people, and for days, their bathroom smelt like seafood. Sam said there was an accident as he showed off the fishbone blade. Dean wasn't even gonna ask.


	3. Abandon All Hope...

Executing some traitors for the Alpha Vampire; filling in for a reaper for several days; babysitting a dog for Ramiel; retrieving a yellow ball python for the same demon VIP; luring a cancer patient burning up her soul using angelic magic... A lot of work had been done by Dean over the last year. In spite of the trifling job, and the lack of violence, demons on Earth were surprisingly efficient and well organized.

Dean's most important job was delivering bad news to his brother, who killed messengers unless it was Dean. All demons, no exception for Azazel, tend to prefer Dean's presence when they talk to Sam, since that's the only way of keeping Sam from going off and massacre.

Dean had asked Sam why he was working for demons. Sam said it was the other way around. To most demons, unlike human being, angels were no easy target and no benefit to defeat. Sam changed the game by stealing some precious books of angelic magic from Lily Sunder and convincing Azazel to form an army with humans against angels, so they could gain more freedom on Earth. But Sam revealed his true intention to Dean with an icy cold smile, "For revenge. I'm chasing a delusional little bird, who's up high in heaven."

It was one of those days, where Sam would go to extremes to avoid Dean, and fuck one of his worshippers. Oh, did Dean mention that Sam had some deep issues with demon blood and sex? Right, when he drank demon blood he had sex, and when he had sex he killed. Not a single soul slept with Sam lived to tell the tale, yet, Sam had no shortage of fan girls, who would die for him in a heartbeat in exchange for a moment with him, and who worshipped him as if he was the devil himself.

Sam returned a weak "morning" to Dean's high-spirited "morning, sunshine", and trotted back to his room, where he would hide behind the door to for the rest of the day. Dean didn't feel like work, lounged about the living room throughout the day, and around 10 PM, screams coming out of one of their guest rooms. Nothing new, some of the girls did that, albeit, it's fun to watch, or listen, Sam managed to make those volunteers beg for mercy. He's a natural torturer, would've amazed Alastair, to whom Dean was apprenticed.

A hobby Dean hadn't grown out of was butting in his brother's sex life. The memory was a little too clear over three centuries, that Sam hadn't given his first kiss when he was kidnapped, and that when Dean put a condom in his backpack, his face almost bled. Now thanked to five rapists, the definition of sex in Sam's dictionary was fundamentally wrong.

Dean put his ear against the door, collecting the noises, imagining the action that was on in their guest room. Sam feasted his eyes on the bleeding girl crawling out of his bed, falling on the floor, screaming for help. He dragged the girl's hair, threw her back on the bed, slashed her badly lacerated body, and drank the freshly flowing out blood. Sam slid his rock hard, monstrous cock into the girl's wet pussy, fucked her like a beast, while she screamed "No" and "Please" and struggled for life. The girl died little by little, as Sam fucked life out of her bit by bit, then the only noises on the other side of the door were the slaps of flesh, the squeaks of the mattress, and the moans of his brother. Finally, Sam finished inside the girl's dead body, who had considered it an honor to be chosen by Sam, and willingly followed him to his house.

Just then, the guest room got as bright as daylight. Before Dean could react, the impact of explosion knocked him out.

The next morning, Dean woke up in his own bed, met Sam in the kitchen, and asked him what had happened last night. "What?" Sam was puzzled, and showed some curiosity as Dean told him about the bright light and what had happened last night. Sam's eyes went to the wall clock before asking Dean what was the first topic on yesterday's morning news. "Some movie creator named Kripke? got dismembered by some crazy fan." Sam turned the TV on, and that's exactly what's on the news.

"What does that mean, genius?" Sam had no answer to Dean's question. He gave a few guesses though: time slip, time loop, prophetic dream, and the possibility that Dean was unconscious and they were in his mind.

"But I do have a way to figure it out." Sam led Dean to his bedroom, and typed something on his keyboard.

"What was that?" Dean looked at the boring codes that didn't make any sense.

"Missiles."

Wait! What? Everything outside turned into grey, as though they were inside a gigantic blender, and then Dean opened his eyes in his own bed on a brand new day.

...

Day 32, Dean barged into the kitchen, slit his forearm, and stuffed the open wound into Sam's mouth. "Drink, and listen to me very carefully. We are under attack by archangel Gabriel. Whatever you do, don't kill him, it'll reset the time like Groundhog day and it's been wearing you out. He hid from us at first, but then the attacks became bolder and stronger. Yesterday He almost killed you. You said the fact that he avoided us was the proof there's a way we could kill him for real, but none of the things you tried had worked so far."

Dean briefed Sam on the last 31 days, which got longer by the day, and was driving Dean nut. It took Dean almost an hour and all the saliva to finish the job. "Look, I have no idea what to do. You said I was the key to getting us out of this. I call it time. We've got one shot, you miss this, we die together."

Sam had been listening quietly and drinking the blood he needed to save them both, then he lifted his head and protested, with watery dopy eyes, flushing cheeks, and the expression between annoy and affection, adorable. "You are making this sound too good."

Dean had a flashback of Sam looking at him the same way centuries ago, when Sam was about 12 and running a temperature, reluctantly taking the meds; also younger, when he thought Dean was hurt (or was he really hurt?); and younger, when he was upset about nothing.

Dean felt dizzy, cold and shaky, despite that, the cut on his forearm had almost healed. Sam sat Dean on the floor against the counter, put his hand on the amulet hanging on Dean's chest, and chanted a spell in Enochian. The ground started quaking, the air whirling, turquoise symbols showing on the wall, and with the end of Sam's voice, everything around them shattered, as if the barrier between two universes had been broken.

"Did this happen before?" Dean shook his head no to Sam's question, although he wasn't sure it's a good thing, given that Sam had told him this place was warded, specifically against angels, which meant now Sam had to face an archangel without any protection or preparation.

Gabriel appeared with blinding brightness, spreading wings wide and proudly. "Sam Winchester, you have to die, or the world is going to end."

As Gabriel stroke his power at them, Sam teleported them to Gabriel's back while chanting an Enochian spell. At the same time with the counter blowing up, Sam appeared at Gabriel's back with a spear shaped glow in his hand. Sam smote and cut off one of Gabriel's wings with the glow in one go. Dean also appeared by Sam's side, and sought cover immediately.

The next moment Sam popped up in front of Gabriel, shoved the glow into Gabriel's stomach, tilted and slashed the glow till it's completely left the angel's body, cutting half of Gabriel's stomach in two. Sam then plunged the glow into Gabriel's head, pinned it onto the floor with a heavy blow. The glow in Sam's hand disappeared in time with the lightning shooting out of Gabriel's body, leaving a single wing shaped burn upon the floor and wall.

Sam then crossed the mutilated dead body of an archangel, and teleported Dean to an over the top hotel room, of which Dean caught a glimpse before getting pushed down on a bouncy mattress, and Sam started unbuttoning Dean's jeans. Dean knew Sam hadn't had to please his sexual partners or what so ever, but unzipping Dean's fly seemed to have consumed all Sam's patience. Sam grabbed Dean's wrists on either side, pressed his whole body on Dean's, and started rubbing their cocks together.

Dean was soon drowned in the sensations of the rough friction on the soft flesh, the hot breaths on the skin of his neck, and the panicked pleading of his own name. The coldness from the loss of blood was gone; the first sex over centuries made him feel hot and alive. Nothing could make his heart beat like this, not even when he cut open the prettiest girl in the world. Everything was charcoal to the diamond of his brother, who was so powerful that he slayed an archangel; who was so cruel that he killed and tortured without blinking an eye; who was so soulless with a hint of craziness that he was willing to destroy the world for revenge.

Sam's breathing got quicker and shallower, hands clutching tighter at Dean's wrists, hips grinding heavier, sinking their bodies deeper into the mattress. Dean's cock was hurt, hot and swelling, almost felt like hardening. It was confusing. He grunted and panted, wanted to do something, anything, but he clenched his fist tight and grabbed nothing.

Sam finished real quick, letting out a sob, pressing their bodies firmly together, and shivering. As Dean felt the loss of the firm grip on his wrist, and the secure weight on top of him, he followed Sam's warmth, pressed his forehead on Sam's chest, and entreated. "Sammy... Please..." 

Sam's body stiffened a split second before his voice sounded above, "I thought it didn't work."

"Yeah, I thought so, too." Dean was horny; the dormant cock was finally erecting for too long a time. He wriggled his erection out of underwear, and started rubbing. Dean knew Sam had too many issues about sex, but he really could use some help here, even it's just the vibration of sound. "Talk to me, please."

Sam did. "Such a slut for me, big brother. You were heading the wrong direction this whole time. Deep down, you like being pushed down by someone taller than you, and outranking you, getting manhandled, used, and ruined." Sam's voice was alluring and seductive, only it stopped after three sentences. Dean wasn't surprised. Considering the blank of his nerdy brother's dating history, these words were a miracle. Dean gave Sam a new direction. "Tell me how you killed your kidnappers."

There was a silence. Just as Dean thought he went too far, Sam talked, about how he cut one open and fucked him to death on a rusty stick; about how he chopped one up; about how he wrung and tore one apart; about how he blew up one's body parts. This time it went on and on. It was the hottest story Dean was ever told, his eyes as black as ink, his hand moving frantically up and down his cock. With a strangled grunt, he reached the climax.

Dean was high like a kite as he felt Sam left him and went to the bathroom to take his habitual long shower after sex. Dean's mind was still centuries ago in that warehouse. He had no idea where the heart wrenching feeling came from when he first saw that picture of his brother getting raped. That picture would've made him hard right now. That night was the ultimate art, the creation of perfection. Dean was so jealous of those guys who got to rape and torture his brother, and being slaughtered by him. He was green with envy that everything Sam did and was going to do was for the hunting of one of their souls.

Dean had an unsettling feeling as he pulled his jeans back on. Listening to the muffled sound of water hitting floor, Dean couldn't get his mind out of that night. He waited half an hour and opened the bathroom door, totally forgetting what a killing machine his brother was. "Wait! It's me!" To prevent himself from being murdered by his brother, Dean shouted promptly, and explained himself, "Just wanna give you a hug. That OK?"

Dean took the silence as a "Yes", walked through the steamy air, to where Sam was standing under the showerhead. It occurred to Dean that after their reuniting, it was the first time he saw Sam's chiseled body, covered with scars, long or short, narrow or wide, and an anti-possession symbol was tattooed on the left side of his chest. Dean got under the water, wrapped his hands around the work of art in the form of a human being, and Sam hugged him back, buried his head in the crook of Dean's neck.

Dean wasn't Sam's protective big brother, just couldn't keep his hands away from something so beautiful. He was a fan boy like other demons, in love with Sam's power, heartless, brokenness, craziness and extremity, as well as his face, body, voice, and his doting on Dean. 

The hug lasted a long time until Dean felt he was well cooked by the heavy and searing clothes sticking on his skin. As Sam was going to leave, Dean stole a quick kiss on the side of his mouth.

By the time Dean took a quick shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and got out of the bathroom, there's clean clothes waiting for him on the bed, and Sam had ordered them room service: grilled steak, shrimp cocktail, brownie, pecan pie, and wine.

Dean decided to eat first, sitting alongside Sam on the only couch in the room, their knees bumping. He stabbed the steak with a fork, took a huge bite, chewed three times, swallowed, and then started, "do you want to make a deal with me?"

"I'm listening." Sam was focusing on carving his steak.

"From now on, I don't have sex with anybody else except you, and you do the same." Now that Dean had a taste, he was greedy and wanted more.

This conversation successfully attracted Sam's attention and made him blush. "Are you proposing to me?"

What Dean meant was boyfriend and boyfriend, but they could definitely skip that phase and go straight into marriage. "Will you marry me?" Dean proposed without a ring or getting on his knee, earned an immediate "sure, why not?" from Sam, who looked perky, eyes shining with peridot and citrine, cheeks pink, corners of his mouth subtly turning up.

The blind love Sam had for him never ceased to impress Dean. The kid had been living in survival mode since he was 14 and on his own. He had as many worshippers as enemies who wanted him dead, such as hunters, angels, and Dean wasn't the only assassin Lilith had sent. But at the end of the day, Sam was a human, a kid, who needed love, for that he hang on for dear life to Dean, the closest thing to it.

Sam screwed up his face as Dean handed him an over sized mug of demon blood. "It's cold."

Dean heated it in the microwave oven for 30 seconds and rehanded it to his brother. "Here, princess." Dean had absolutely no idea why Azazel went so far as to create a vampire for their own kind.

Sam reluctantly drank up the blood and licked his lips clean. Dean can see the lust on Sam's face when Sam shoved him onto the bed, and without care, took off his jeans and underwear.

Dean rolled up on all fours as Sam got rid of his own pants swiftly, and Dean howled "Ow!" as Sam forced two dry fingers at once into his virgin hole. "There's lube right there on the nightstand!" The next thing Dean got was four lubed fingers up his ass, and that's all he got before Sam's cock pushed into his hole. Unlike fingers, the length pressed firmly against Dean's tender inner wall. It's chafing. It hurt. And it couldn't be painless for Sam either.

Dean doubted whether Sam was even a human, as he dragged his cock out without any pausing, and with a lot of painful dry friction, then pushed nonstop back in. Sam set an exponential pace, punching louder and harsher groans out of Dean, and soon Dean had to brace his hands on the headboard to prevent headbutting it every time Sam bottomed up.

There's too much rage in Sam, who had been through hell without actually going there. He didn't seem to care about the little pain companied with pleasure. On the other hand, Dean's vessel soon healed because of his demon power, and it left him with a good hard fuck and sheer pleasure.

"Ah... Ahh... Fu... ck..." Dean's moans were thick and sweet, his throbbing cock hitting his stomach following the rhythm of Sam's crotch slapping his hips. "Ah... So... Fucking... Good... Ah... Ahh... Sammy... Ahh..." Dean licked his lips, wrapped one hand around his swelling cock, and rubbed up and down, fast and furious.

Dean hadn't realized that Sam's hips stopped moving until Sam's body blanketed his back, and Sam's hand stopped on his throat. For a split second, Dean thought it'd be the greatest honor to be killed by Sam like this, but the fingers skimmed over his neck before leaving, and his shoulder blade received a too gentle kiss. Then Sam's hands were back clutching at his hips, and the hard fucking restarted.

"Fuck... Fuck... Fuck... Ahh... Fuck..." The pleasure soared higher and higher, and Dean's hand moved faster and faster. Dean chocked on a moan as he released sperm in his hand, and his vision went white. But nothing changed, Sam was still pounding his ass with the same carelessness and fierceness. Every time his brother's cock hit his over sensitive sweet spot, Dean felt electricity run through his core, and his body jolted violently with it. Still, nothing changed.

"Ah... Ah... Ahh..." Dean inhaled deeply and shakily, moaned like he was dying. His over stimulated body gave in in a flash, upper body plunging into the mattress.

After a few ebbing waves of orgasmic shock, and a period of time of his body not responding to any sexual stimulation like the previous three centuries, Dean aroused again.

"Ah... Sammy... Ah... Ahh... 'm a slut for ya... Ahhh..." Dean's hips were held up high for his brother to use, his cock rubbing against the mattress with Sam's now erratic pounding, and then Sam stilled, splashing heat deep inside Dean. It felt so good that Dean almost orgasmed again.

Sam didn't stay long. As soon as he came down from the high, which was too soon, he left Dean and ran off to the bathroom. Dean got rid of the rest of his clothes, gathered some sticky liquid flowing out of his hole with his fingers, smeared it on his rock hard cock, and started to get himself off, imagining what he could do to his brother's scarred body.

Dean had a dream, in which he was with those men who took his brother, and he was taking turns with them to abuse a fourteen-year-old Sam. The inside of Sam's body was incredibly soft and warm; the screaming of Sam was arousing and electrifying. Dean fucked Sam on his back, on his side, and on his hands and knees, then Dean pushed his cock into Sam's mouth while another guy using Sam's ass. And then Sam started torturing Dean, making him scream, and fucking Dean, thrusting his fingers into Dean's mouth playing with his tongue, wrapping his hand around Dean's cock rubbing frenetically. The friction was so fucking sweet, so so hot. Dean came as hard as if he was exploding.

The shock of what felt like being struck by a thunderbolt woke up Dean. The same as his dream, the mattress was screaming in his ears, and Sam was fucking him through his orgasm, his body jerking violently every time the fragile spot deep inside him being hit. What different from his dream was that the fingers in his mouth belonged to himself, as well as the ones on his cock.

Dean was naked lying on the edge of the bed, and Sam, fully dressed, except for the lowering pants, was holding Dean's hips open and upward, so that his cock could reach deeper. "Sammy... Sammy... Ah... Ah... Ahh..." Dean liked every second of it, loved everything Sam gave to him, and wished it would never come to an end. Unfortunately, it didn't last very long. At some point between Dean riding out the high and starting to arouse again, Sam painted Dean's wall with his seeds, and then ran like a cheetah to the bathroom.

Dean was left half lying on the bed, half thrown off from it, his hips on the edge of the bed, cock hard, liquid flowing out of his hole down the side of the mattress. It was early morning. He could finish what Sam started all by himself, or he could go back to sleep. Dean started debating himself...


	4. Point of No Return

Sam didn't like any kind of body contact. When he fucked Dean, he kept it to a minimum, and more often than not his clothes were partially on. On the contrary, Dean was dying to get his hands on Sam. Day by day, the small touches he gave Sam lingered longer, and gained more sexuality.

"Whatcha thinking?" Dean noticed the atmosphere next to him changed into something warm and bright, and turned to look at Sam in shotgun. They were in Lebanon, Kansas, driving to a spot where Sam discovered some time ago that he couldn't teleport to anywhere within its 20 mile radius.

"I just came up with a joke." Sam said excitedly.

"Is there any chance you don't tell me?"

Sam ignored Dean's twitting and continued, "Once upon a time, there were eight brothers. They all avoided the third brother because his body was always warm and moist, and soon got himself some fleas. He tried very hard to get rid of those fleas, almost succeeded, but then the fleas reemerged."

After a long silence, Dean prompted, "and?"

"And that's it. The third brother's name was Earth."

It took Dean a while to perceive the fact that they were the fleas in that story. Sometimes he couldn't decide which one of Sam and Lucifer was a worse news to all creatures.

Dean pulled up in front of an old bunker, followed Sam out the car, and gave the dump a glance. "This is the center of your mysterious 'Bermuda Triangle'?"

"Seems like it."

They walked down a flight of stairs and reached a seemingly small door to such a large building. Sam tried to break the locked door, which had no key hole in it, but it wouldn't budge. Then he walked around it, teleported to the top of it, gave a thorough examination, and concluded that the wards of this place were rather sophisticated and intriguing, probably against anything preyed on human.

As Sam tried to overpower the warding, Dean stopped him, "maybe you don't have to destroy the warding to get in. Why don't you try to bomb the door first?"

Sam looked at Dean for a few seconds before giving him a bear hug. Dean heard Sam saying "you are a genius" and tuned out the rest of his nerdy words, as he relished an armful of Sam, his smell, his warmth, his joy. Too soon, Sam's body went rigid, and the fingers running through Dean's hair stopped dead awkwardly. Dean pressed a kiss in the crook of Sam's neck, and gave a light pat on his hair, before letting him go.

Dean earned the honor to do the job, picked a grenade from a trunk of weapons that's all his hobby, and successfully blew the door away. Like Sam predicted, Dean couldn't get inside even there wasn't a door in his way. Dean gave Sam a sack of weapons as he went in. Sam kept the colt and returned the rest.

Hours later, Sam came back as if he hit the jackpot. He said this bunker seemed to be abandoned for a very long time, and whoever had lived in there left countless precious books and artifacts, which was strange.

Sam erased some wards and sigils he knew against demons, and let Dean try to drive the car through the back door he had found. It worked.

"So we live here now?" Dean followed Sam touring the interior of the bunker, which laid out in two layers, and contained a library Sam drooling over.

"For a while. Yeah. I mean, there are too many things here I need to appraise." Dean could see the stars shining in Sam's eyes that he loved so much. Dean put his hand around Sam's waist and gently pulled him closer, whispering in his ear, "in that case, we should sleep together for safety."

Dean was amazed that he could actually feel Sam's body temperature soaring. Despite fucking Dean after drinking demon blood, Sam never stuck around afterward, much less slept together with him.

"Yeah, you are right." Sam agreed, "and we should pick up some supplies, since I can't teleport from here."

"Does that mean one of us has to cook?" They looked at each other, both had no idea what a life was waiting for them. The word "marriage" popped up on Dean's mind.

To save the time, Dean was sent to run the errands, and by the time he came back with bags occupying all the space in his car, it was night. Dean dragged Sam out of the library, stuffed some food in him, and was about to put him to bed.

"Wait! I need to take a shower." It seemed that Sam hadn't realized how it sounded until he saw Dean's smirk. He ran off blushing.

Dean was reading Sam's scribbles on the bunker's warding, when Sam strolled in their room and hesitated to get on bed with him.

"Come on, I don't bite." Dean put down the notepad, softening his tone, "comere, 'm not trying anything, promise."

Sam routed to the other side of the bed, and as soon as his butt hit the memory foam, Dean hugged him from behind.

"What happened to not trying anything?"

"I thought I taught you better." Dean's lips brushed against Sam's ear, murmuring a demon's whisper, "I can make you feel so good, Sammy. Just lie down and let me take care of you."

Dean maneuvered Sam lying down with him, lips brushing lightly on Sam's, hand giving even lighter touches on Sam's waist and lower back, with all their clothes on. Sam's hand was timid and tentative, mimicking Dean's movement.

They were lying face to face, breathing mingled together. "See, it's good." Dean smiled at Sam, hand moving up to Sam's face, brushing away the bangs that's been hiding those watery eyes and pinkish cheeks. Sam's yellow eye never glowed, making a good pair with the green one.

"You grow up." Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair, which was still damp from the shower.

"You didn't." Sam mumbled back.

"Careful, kid. I'm way older than you. It just doesn't show." Despite the fact that Sam could see through his disfigured soul.

"You want to prove it to me?" Sam bit on his lower lip, totally under the spell.

"Sure..." The hand on the back of Sam's head pushed slightly, guiding him to meet Dean's gentle kissing. Dean's tongue gave Sam's lower lip a light touch, before getting in his mouth and connecting with the tip of his tongue. It slowly went deeper, nudging and chasing Sam's coy tongue, making it dance along.

Dean's body moderately got on top of Sam, and the kiss got deeper and intenser, their chests heaving against each other, Sam's hands clutching at Dean's bicep and shoulder. Dean's teeth grazed Sam's lower lip, while his hand went under Sam's t-shirt caressing the feverish skin.

Call it a hunch, Dean thought he was about to hit Sam's limit. "That's enough sugar for tonight." Dean panted, leisurely ending the make out session. He got up to flip the light off, then went back and put a blanket on them.

Dean, who had no idea how Sam and he had survived when they were younger, wasn't a very good cook. He told Sam to shut it when a trash can of failed cooking was exposed to his brother. Sam ate the only edible dish of scrambled eggs, put a kiss on Dean's lips with flushing cheeks, and told him "I love you", then he said he'd be busy, and sent Dean off to deal with Ruby and his fellow demons.

Within days, Sam sealed the bunker's broken front door with cinder blocks and concrete, and rewrote the warding, which made it possible for Sam to use his power, and at the same time hid their traces.

Sam was obsessed with the treasures in this place. Whenever Dean walked in on him, Sam had this wicked smile on his face, either putting angel killing spell on one of the weapons that he's going to sell to Bela, or reading something that might be useful in fighting against angels.

Dean was obsessed with seducing Sam. One night, he got Sam worked up pillowing on his lap. Sam unbuttoned his jeans, removed the cloth confining the hard bulge, and licked his cock with the tip of his tongue like it's a lollipop. Then Sam put the crown of the cock into his mouth, the tip of his tongue rubbing the cleft.

Sam slowly let Dean's cock in deeper and deeper, and when finally the wet, warm oral cavity took in the full length, Dean let out a moan filled with lust. Dean's hand stroked Sam's hair, as Sam's head moved up and down on his cock, and occasionally, the tongue drew circles around the crown.

Dean's panting got heavier, both hands on Sam's head. He didn't dare to push, nor did he need to. Once again, he doubted Sam's humanity and his ability to perceive pain or discomfort. Sam's movement gaining speed, Dean could feel the tip of his cock hit the back of Sam's throat every time it bottomed up.

It felt so good that very soon, Dean's cock was pulsating, and he was on the verge of orgasming. He didn't know whether he came first, or Sam keeping the full length to the hilt happened first. The only thing for sure was that his come went straight into Sam's stomach, and he could feel Sam's throat milking the tip of his cock.

When Dean stopped coming, Sam used his lips and tongue cleaning up Dean's half hard and over sensitive cock, including every single seed that might be left in the cleft. Sam then rested his head on Dean's lap again, gave his jaw a few rubs, and looked up at Dean, eyes watery, cheeks flushing. "It tastes better than blood." He commented.

Dean's cock gave an excited twitch and started swelling again.

Dean had the impression that Sam had been avoiding him since then. Although Sam still used his body after drinking demon blood, and they still slept in the same bed.

Weeks later, Dean woke up in what seemed like a hotel room, naked, pinned down on a rose petals sheeted bed.

"Morning, sunshine." Lilith was on top of him, wearing a sexy woman's meat suit, also naked, with nice big tits, slim waist, and plump hips. Seeing Dean gain consciousness, Lilith grabbed Dean's hand and put it on one of her big soft tits.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Dean grunted, didn't understand what was going on, except for the obvious fact that he was getting raped by an old demon, and he wasn't hard at all.

"Really? Nothing?" Lilith looked down at Dean's limp cock, giving it a hard grasp. Still nothing. In Dean's defense, demons were not made for mating. They were disfigured forms of human souls, vile, fugly, grotesque, nothing attractive.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Dean made his question more clearly.

"Do you get hard when your brother fuck you?" Lilith disregarded Dean once again, but then she talked, "I sent you to kill him, not to sleep with him."

"What do you want me to say? I'm sorry?" Dean expected Lilith to kill him if he ever got caught. But why were they naked?

"Don't be. I didn't put that much expectation on you." Lilith laughed, not in a happy way. "You know, there's no win for me in this game. I'm the final seal guarding Lucifer's cage, and Sam Winchester is the one destined to kill me. You really should've killed him while you still could. He's Lucifer's true vessel. Once I die, Lucifer's out, he'll get in your brother's body and imprison his soul forever."

Lilith got up and took Dean's cell phone. "Now. It's time." She muted Dean's voice and got on top of him again, whispering in his ear, "what do you think he'll do when he sees us like this?"

Lilith dialed Sam. She moaned erotically, soft tits pressed tightly against Dean's flat chest, wet cunt rubbed firmly against Dean's soft cock.

Everything was on Lilith's script. Sam appeared and threw Lilith and Dean to the far end of the wall. Except before Sam could kill her, Dean got his voice back and screamed "don't".

Sam's hesitation gained Dean enough time to continue. "Please don't kill her. You don't want to do this." Then he heard himself and got to the point. "Lilith is the final seal keeping Lucifer locked up. You're Lucifer's vessel. They wanted your body all along!"

As Sam approached him, Dean continued, "You need to trust me here."

"I trust you." Sam lifted Dean's legs and put them around his waist, then he thrust two fingers at once into Dean's ass. "This has nothing to do with trust."

This has everything to do with Sam claiming Dean his. Message accepted.

The fingers up Dean's ass soon became four, and then Sam's cock. Dean's arms were freed and around Sam's neck, legs jerking around Sam's waist. He moaned every time his sweet spot was hit and pleasure surged. "Ah... Ah... Ah... Sammy... Sammy..." 

Lilith was right next to them, pinned on the wall, feeling the heat radiating from them, but not for long, Sam's hands went to Dean's armpit, picked him up like he weighed nothing, and carried him to the bed. Dean could see Lilith's lustful face, hard nipples, and the clear fluid running down her thighs. Dean's arms closed snugly around Sam's neck in case there's anything left ambiguous.

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, with Dean's back and his front facing Lilith, his hands on Dean's lower back and waist. Dean didn't need to be told. As soon as his knees hit the mattress, he started grinding his hips creating just enough friction to please them both.

"Sammy... You feel so good... So big... So hot... I can feel your cock pulsing inside me..." Dean lifted his hips then sat down, riding his brother's cock the way he liked, and each time the hole length slotted completely in his hole, the zip of Sam's jeans bit into his skin.

Gradually, Sam started rolling his hips and picking up speed. Dean shoved down in time with Sam's cock thrusting into his hole. The pace and movement got faster and fiercer, and soon, Dean was bouncing on Sam's cock, babbling, "Yeah... Ah... Ah... Ah... Yes... Give it to me... More... Break me... Ah... Ahh... Make me yours... Sammy... Ahh..."

Dean let out a curse as Sam wrapped his hand around his cock, and he could feel the orgasm so close, so much pleasure. "Oh... Fuck... Ah... Ah... Ahh... Sammy... Come inside me... Make me carry your Cambion... Ahh... Sammy... Ah... Ahh... Ahhh!" Screaming, Dean shot his seeds on Sam's shirt and his bare stomach.

Sam grasped Dean's waist, keeping fucking him. The tip of Sam's cock hit Dean's over sensitive sweet spot; Dean was shocked by pleasure, couldn't even breathe, body jerking violently. The hardness hit that spot again; it repeated once more. Then again, and again, and then Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's torso, crushed their bodies together, and spread seeds deep into Dean's gut.

Dean didn't get to see what a mess Lilith must've been. He inhaled deeply a few times letting oxygen in, and when he could finally see things, they were back on their bed in the bunker.

Sam held Dean's waist to help him get up. The friction on his tender inner wall made Dean moan softly, and he moaned again when fluid ran down along the inside of his thighs.

"Dean, there's something I have to tell you." Sam put a blanket on Dean, and dressed himself. He went on, "I found a cure for demons."

"What does that mean?" Why did it sound like demons were some kind of disease? It's racism. 

"I can turn you back to human."

Dean was speechless, didn't know how he was supposed to feel. He found clue from the next sentence of Sam's.

"You don't seem happy?"

"Dude, demons are way stronger than normal humans. It's like playing the same game on easy mode. Besides, I don't have to watch my weight or my Cholesterol. Now you want to turn me back? And then what? I die decades later and go through it all over again?"

Sam considered it and concluded, "so you don't want to be a human?"

"Hell no!" Dean determined, and was convinced that Sam for real had been avoiding him as he looked at the relief on Sam's face. "So this is what's been eating you up?"

Sam didn't have to answer, said he had some demons to kill before fleeing.


	5. The End

Sam brought back an angel like he's a Christmas turkey. He locked the angel up in one of the rooms in the bunker and told Dean he found him a job. "What do you know about Metatron?"

"I guess it's that Christmas turkey's name."

"That's correct. He was the scribe of God." Sam led Dean to the library and started picking up books, which Dean stopped immediately, "wait, you expect me to read all that?"

As Sam seemed to realize this was a mission impossible, Dean offered, "why don't you read it to me?"

Dean learned it the hard way that the downside of letting your boss read you bedtime stories was that if you ever fell asleep, he'd pinch you twice to make sure you were awake, and then continue his story.

By the time Dean finally set foot in the same room with Metatron, he was not in a good mood. Lucky for him, there were an angel and some convenient tools in front of him. As he picked up a pair of scissors, Metatron spitted at him. "Save it, you are not getting anything from me."

"Let's see how far you can go for those who caused you leaving heaven."

Turned out it's not far at all. Dean accidentally killed Metatron in the process of interrogation, but he got enough information to make Sam get on his knees sucking him clean.

Sam opened three of heaven's portals, one to Earth, two to hell, through which demons poured into the dream land said to have everything. The location of the portal on Earth was classified, only demons and their allies were told, and before the message got further out, the war ended, within days, with the extinction of angel race.

When Sam and Dean put on their sunglasses and went to heaven with other demons, the ground was already covered in blood and corpse. By then, few angels was seen. They caught two named Zachariah and Castiel.

Sam cut off Castiel's wings and told him to call other angels for help, but the angel wouldn't do it, so Sam cut a slice off of him. The angel screamed as the tip of his nose and a thin piece of the flesh of his torso were gone. Sam cut another slice off of him, made the angel scream again, and his brain and organs were exposed. The next cut made the angel's scream sound a little weird, and the next made it inaudible.

Castiel's body was left almost only a half, but he was still struggling weakly. Sam flipped the body allowing the angle to crawl on his open belly, painting a new trail of blood and organs on the red land. The angel died a few seconds later on his own.

Sam turned to face Zachariah, who fluently called out a series of names. After those who came to rescue were all killed, Sam gave back Zachariah's angel blade, giving him a chance to fight the tens of demons around, some of who had the dead angels' body parts in their hands. Zachariah ended his own life.

As they walked on through a pine wood, there appeared innumerable bubbles of the worst memories from their pasts. Dean saw that night he put the muzzle of a .45 into his open mouth, and pull the trigger. He had been alone in a motel, looked so lost. In retrospect, John indeed had done everything he possibly could to save Dean, Just Dean didn't want to ever let the pain go, not without Sam.

Dean also saw what had happened to Sam in that warehouse, and he crying miserably while butchering the persons trying to help him. It had happened more than just once or twice, letting Dean wonder what would've happened if he had found Sam back then. Whatever. It was a useless hypothesis. In reality he was a demon. There's always a part of him wanted to ruin Sam, making him scream, cry, and beg. Most of the time, he just wanted to do everything to Sam and be done everything by Sam.

"Dean!" When Dean heard Sam shouting his name, he had already been shoved aside, his back hitting a tree trunk, and Sam was in his arms. The ground they had been standing was now a huge dent, with trees knocked down and corpse of demons scattering. The angels attacking them were soon killed by other demons.

"You ok?" They said in unison, trying at the same time to give the other one a full body check.

Sam made the call for the platoon to take a rest in the wood, and they went on hours later. On the fifth day after the portals were opened, the third day after they walked through one of the portals, the sky of heaven turned dark with a touch of orange, as if the sun was setting down. A bird came to deliver the news that archangel Michael had been locked into a cage by Rowena. Sometime later, another demon came to tell them that Azazel killed archangel Raphael and was assembling everyone to announce their victory.

The place of assembly was a stadium. When they got there, two-thirds of the seats were occupied, and Azazel was standing in the middle of the field with Famine, Pestilence, War, Asmodeus and Dagon.

As Azazel was giving a speech of how he's going to turn heaven into another hell, Sam teleported Dean and himself to the front of him, and pinned him immovable. Before anyone could do anything, Dean thrust a demon killing blade into Azazel's heart, stating, "for Mary Winchester."

It took everyone by surprise, and Dean shouted, "bow down to your new king!" Starting with Sam's fanatic worshippers, demons started to get on their knees. Sam killed Dagon, who tried to assault him, and a squad of Sam's soldiers killed whoever remained standing after that.

Sam closed the portal between heaven and Earth, but kept the ones between heaven and hell open. He hunted down the soul of his rapist, flayed it before throwing it into the furnace that kept heaven working. He also executed Anubis, an Egyptian god, who was responsible for letting his enemy in heaven.

Sam and Dean built their own home in heaven, for the obvious reason that angels didn't need foods to eat, beds to sleep, or places to live. The other demons did so too, and they settled down pretty fast.

There's no day or night in this place, only dusk. Dean closed the thick curtains before getting on bed with Sam, whose split personality had quite healed. He was no longer acting like a blushing virgin when Dean made a move on him. Neither would he lose control and fuck like a beast after drinking demon blood.

They sat in the middle of the bed kissing lazily. Sam unbuttoned Dean's plaid shirt and peeled it off of Dean's shoulders. Dean helped pull the sleeves off his arms, then lifted the edge of his black t-shirt, and took it off, displaying the perfect six-pack abs. "See anything you like?" Dean almost asked, but he knew better that all Sam could see was the bruises and scars on his true form, and in his chest was a bleeding hole that wouldn't heal. It must've taken a huge amount of love for someone to overcome the repugnance and put a kiss on that wound, but Sam made it look so easy. When their eyes met, all Dean could see was love and warmth, and all he wanted to do was express his love for Sam.

Dean pushed his tongue into Sam's mouth, kissing while slowly lying their bodies on the mattress. Sam embraced Dean from beneath, kissing back with passion, pressing his crotch against Dean's thigh. Dean gave Sam's tongue a suck, grazed his lower lip, then started sprinkling kisses on his chin and neck. Sam hummed enjoyably and his hand petted Dean's head in time. Dean unbuttoned Sam's shirt with one hand, exposing the scarred pale skin, and his kisses went on lower.

Dean's tongue brushed over a raised scar right above Sam's chest, while his hand caressed Sam's waist. His lips opened and closed around that scar a few times, then moved on to Sam's nipple, wrapping around it. At the same time as his tongue was drawing circles around one of Sam's nipples, his fingers were doing the same with the other one. Dean lingered for a long time sucking and licking the little bud, then his tongue went on through the other scars to Sam's equally scarred belly button, leaving a glistening wetness on its trail.

"Dean..." Sam moaned like he felt real good and enjoyed a great deal, as Dean's tongue wetted his belly button and stretched it while pushing inside. Dean kept tonguing it and an idea popped up in his head.

Dean took off Sam's pants and underpants, lifted his hips, and started licking the puckered ring of muscle. The tip of his tongue pushed in just a little every time it swept over the skin around, and gradually, it went deeper and deeper, stretching the tense muscle all wet and loose. Dean pulled Sam's butt cheeks wide apart letting his tongue get even deeper, and he pushed his tongue in and out of Sam's ass a few times just like that. When his tongue finally completely left the hot wet tunnel with a string of saliva, the entrance of that tunnel contracted repeatedly and then kept half open.

Sam's moaning turned into a long content sigh as Dean pushed two fingers into his asshole. The pads of Dean's fingers felt along the anal wall, and when he touched the right spot, Sam's body jerked. There's a bead of pre-come forming on the tip of Sam's erection. "Do it again." Sam moaned.

Dean did what he was told and made Sam say what he wished for. "Dean, I want to feel your cock inside me." Dean got rid of his jeans and boxers a little too eagerly, positioned his cock at Sam's entrance as fast as demonly possible, and pushed forward. The crown of the cock overcame the resistance, and with a pop, it was hugged snuggly by the tight warmth of Sam's ass. Neither of them cared if it's too dry or too tight. Dean kept pushing to the hilt. The pressure and temperature made Dean feel like he's having a bubble bath, only a thousand times better.

Dean savored the sensation and bent down to kiss Sam, whose body soon clung to Dean's as if he's magnetic. Dean's tongue rubbed against Sam's as he started grinding his hips, and their panting got heavier and heavier.

Sam broke the kiss first, moaning, "there... Hit there again... Harder..."

Dean pulled half way out then thrust back in, rocking Sam's body a little forward, getting a loud moan from him, and then Sam's body was brought back by the squeaky mattress to meet Dean's next thrust. It repeated over and over again at a quick pace.

"Dean... Please... Give it to me... I'm so close... Ah..." Sam's fingers clawed at Dean's back.

Dean made the thrusts more shallow and heavy, hitting Sam's sweet spot dead on, and when the head of his cock hit that spot yet again, Sam's body seized around him, fingers digging into his flesh, legs clamping around his hips. Heat oozed out of where Sam's twitching cock pressed against Dean's abdomen.

Those rapists did a fucking fantastic job on his brother. Never once did Sam think of touching himself while being fucked, instead, he was acting like a girl, a clingy one. Sam hugged Dean tightly, burying his face in the crook of Dean's neck, and his ass was hotly sucking Dean's cock. Dean had to bite his tongue to keep himself from coming right away.

As soon as Sam came down, Dean pulled out, cooling his over excited body a little, and maneuvered Sam lying prone. Sam's back and buttocks were covered with long narrow light marks left by a whip. Dean showered the scars with wet kisses, and by the time he got to the burn scars between Sam's thighs, Sam was aroused again.

Dean gave one of Sam's butt cheeks a light bite, before spreading the cheeks open, and pushing his cock back into the tight hot tunnel. He lifted Sam's hips and started pulling out and pushing in.

Dean pressed his chest on Sam's back, palms on the back of Sam's hands on either side of their bodies, fingers meshing together. "Does it feel good?" He panted against Sam's neck, hips rolling lazily.

"Yeah... It's real good..."

"I'm gonna come inside you... And stay inside you while we sleep... When I wake up, I'll fuck you through tomorrow... Do all kinds of filthy things to you... Make you feel so good..." Dean nibbled at Sam's neck, talking to him in a seductive undertone.

Dean felt Sam's attempt to get up, but Dean didn't yield and Sam settled on begging, "De... Dean... Please..."

"Tell me what you want..."

"Fuck me harder... Make me come... Please, Dean... I'm so close..."

"Yeah... I can feel you suck me so good... Fuck..."

Dean abandoned all the control he had, thrust his cock as hard as he could into his brother's bowel as deep as possible, slapping their flesh together, ramming Sam into the mattress, making the bed scream and his brother moan loud.

"Dean... Dean... Ah... I'mm... I'm gonna come... Dean..."

"Come for me, babe..."

On Dean's command, Sam came with a guttural cry, and all his muscles went stiff. This time as the slutty little hole milked him, Dean didn't resist, feeding it all his seeds.

Dean crushed Sam into the mattress, front firmly pressed on Sam's back, body weight entirely on Sam. Before he knew, he was asleep with his cock still inside Sam's ass.

Heaven was where all souls went when people deceased on the Earth. Each soul had its own cell, in which it would be dreaming the dream it chose to the end of time. But if any of the souls dared take a peek at the sun-setting heaven, a demon was waiting to drag it out of its cell, torture it, then fling it to the furnace of heaven.

So close your eyes tight.

Good dreams.


End file.
